The Pianist

The Piano

A chill ran up his spin from the cold breath of morning air, he wrapped himself in blankets as he heaved himself out of bed. Slowly he walked over to the window and peered out. Snow was falling from the sky as it covered the street like a soft blanket. Sparing it from the cold miseries of the morning. Losing interest he walked out of the room to officially start his day.

Trudging down the hallway, he turns into an open room. The room only held a piano in the center, there were no plants in the corner or pictures lining the walls. Only a single Steinway piano sat there collecting dust.

Still he remembers the day he got it like any other, April first, his parents got it for his 16th birthday. He woke up that morning feeling as though the world was on his side. He hopped out of bed, rushing to the kitchen ready to eat. His parents were mirroring his expression when he got there. His mother gently led him out of the house. In the front yard sat a truck and on the flatbed, with straps holding it in place, under them were pads to keep it safe, sat a brand new Steinway piano. What you can see of the black paint shining in the sun, the three legs holding around 300-500 pounds. The lacquer smell is still there. His dad nudged him as the movers hopped out and hooked it up to a crane. Once on the ground they unhooked it and carried it into the living room.

He was so happy, after that day he started to teach himself how to play, the lessons lasting for hours on end. From eight in the morning till midnight. He started to neglect the rest of his homework, math homework never seeing his room, factors unsolved, squares still missing numbers. He didn't care he played until his fingers cramped and his neck hurt from looking at his hands.

His family told him he was insane for spending so much time sitting at the edge of that piano. He didn't care, he ended up playing his first concerto, and then another and another. He played and played until he was old he pushed everything else out. He only cared about getting better. Losing himself in the sound and the rush it gave him.

Soon he realized he was lonely. His world spinning as he couldn't take it anymore. Finally he wore out. He lost so much time because of this piano. Finding it interesting that he couldn't play anymore, the line between his family and him dangles in front of him as if mocking him.

He couldn't stand to look at it, to approach it. He was told stories of people who had been obsessed until the point of insanity. Never did he believe he would be one of them.